


hot and heavy, (apple) pie

by mareviils



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, completely self indulgent, soft boys find a home in each other, steve finds bucky in a grocery store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:16:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareviils/pseuds/mareviils
Summary: steve bumps into bucky while grocery shopping after searching for him for months. because i say he can. cue pining, and true love.





	hot and heavy, (apple) pie

It’s that awkward stage of September where the weather is in flux between still summery heat and the beginnings of fall. Steve’s never sure whether he should grab a jacket or not before he leaves his apartment- the chill on some days is uncomfortable even for his high body temperature courtesy of the serum. That’s what he’s thinking of as he walked out the door. It’s too cold for just his threadbare henley and he’s neglected to grab his usual leather jacket that hangs beside the door, but even as goosebumps begin to prickle his bare forearms, he’s already decided to just continue about his business. The grocery store he was headed to is only a five minute walk away, and oh well, it’s not like he could catch chill now anyway, he tells himself. 

Back in the 40s he would be on death’s door days after this, shakes, fever, popping ears making his already damaged hearing even worse. Forgetting his jacket was a habit he’d always had trouble with- Bucky would have swore up and down as soon as he stepped inside without a coat. “I’ll have you know I ain’t your damn nursemaid, Rogers,” he would have said, red in the face but still wrapping Steve up in their extra blanket and making sure he slept closest to the radiator that night anyways. Steve would have wanted to say no one’s forcing you to stay, then, Buck and throw him a grin, but he’d be too busy shivering and trying to soak up as much of Bucky’s body heat as possible. And that was just how Bucky always was- threatening to beat his ass but still nursing him back to health anyway. 

It’s one of the reasons Steve loves him.

Steve doesn’t have to worry about sickness anymore, but there’s still a phantom feeling of a shiver and a memory that aches as he walks through the automatic doors into the fluorescent lighting of the store, rubbing heat back into his arms. He comes here often enough to the point where the workers no longer care who is is, so he doesn’t think twice before grabbing a cart and heading towards the food. So what if it’s Captain America buying Ramen- after the trips have hit double digits, the novelty wears off. 

Ramen, that’s one thing he needs. He goes over his mental shopping list while he stalks over to the noodle aisle. Ramen, eggs, fruit, bread, milk, those tiny apple pies he’s grown too fond of- it’s been a few weeks since he’s stocked up where he usually goes every five days so he’s in need of almost everything. The demand of his super solider body coupled with the episode he was feeling didn’t exactly go together. Not feeling up to to leaving the house but feeling ravenous anyway led to lots of Chinese food delivered to his place, which was a semi- normal occurrence with how often his off weeks occur, but he had woken up feeling like he was finally okay to leave his darkened apartment and the sight of takeout boxes was beginning to make his stomach turn. And so here he was, a case of Chicken Ramen in his cart, heading towards the bread aisle. 

Shopping finally gave him something to think about other than the turmoil going on in his own head, which felt pretty refreshing. His psychiatrist had babbled something about his mind needing intent or something to shut off intrusive thoughts. Steve supposes deciding between whole wheat or splurging on honey wheat was intent enough for today. 

He wheels towards the dairy, plopping the loaf of honey wheat he had picked up into his basket, mind already settling on grabbing some skim milk and a carton of eggs. He makes another mental note about those mini-pies he was fond of- two cherry, one apple, and a pecan pie, as usual. Maybe an extra apple. It had been a rough few weeks. He can indulge.

There aren’t many people in the store this time of day, he notices, arms prickling again as he leans into the chill of the freezer to grab his gallon of skim. There’s only a few people that he can see, a woman grabbing a few cups of yogurt, a teenager at the bakery, a man in the produce musing over fruit. It’s a little late for shopping, and he finds the lack of crowding more comfortable anyways. He gently sets the milk next to the Ramen, turns his cart to head towards the eggs, and lets his mind wander a bit as he walks.

He needs to call Sam back soon. He’d texted a few days ago asking if Steve wanted to meet for coffee and work on their manhunt project, but Steve hadn’t had the energy to reply. He feels guilty for neglecting that (and guilty for a lot of other things, his mind unhelpfully supplies), so after he gently sets the eggs into his cart, he pulls out his phone to tap out a text.

Hey. Sorry for the late reply. Was a little busy. I’ll meet up with you tomorrow at yours, if you’re free.- Steve

Sam will know he wasn’t really busy, but he won’t call him out on it. Steve appreciates that more than he’ll ever be able to verbalize. 

He feels immediately lighter, and with a renewed sense of accomplishment, he heads over towards the apples- and promptly runs smack into another person. That’s what he gets for texting while walking, he scolds himself. 

“Sorry, sorry-“ Steve mutters, yanking his cart back and shoving his phone into his jeans. He looks up to give his best Captain America smile and then- it promptly slips off his face. 

For a moment he thinks he’s imagining things again- after the Potomac he thought he saw him in every face in the crowd. Every man with his face shadowed by a cap, every person he glimpsed walking around a corner. Wishful thinking. And he’s been searching with Sam for months, so how can this- how can the man in front of him be who he think it is?

It’s Bucky. 

Or at least- it looks like him. That’s his dimpled chin, his blue eyes, his red mouth about to form words Steve can barely grasp at with the blood pounding in his ears. 

“Stevie?”

It’s quiet, and Steve can’t so much hear it rather than see it. With the amount of hours he’d spent staring at that mouth and sketching is surreptitiously for want to press his own lips against it- he knows. He knows this is his Bucky- or some version of him- standing in a too-cold grocery store saying a name Steve hasn’t heard anyone call him in this century. He knows, but he can’t believe, not without making sure. 

“Bucky,” he whispers, hands gone slack on the shopping cart. 

Bucky is looking as pale as he is, and a little scared. He’s holding a plastic bag of what Steve assumes are kiwis. He’s dressed in black jeans and a drab green sweatshirt, and his hair is tucked away into a ski cap, but Steve thinks he looks so beautiful he could cry. Just being able to look at him...

Bucky’s eyes are big and he cant seem to find words to say next, so Steve fumbles for them himself, frightened that Bucky might run away if he doesn’t tread on lightly, but even more afraid that he might bolt before Steve is able to say anything at all. 

“Buck... You know who I am?”

The look Bucky gives him is familiar- watered down, but still the same strand of really, punk? in his gaze that lets Steve know he had just asked a question with an obvious answer. Bucky had just said his name so Steve probably should have assumed he knew who he was. His sheepishness is overshadowed by his shock at finding Bucky in a supermarket after months of searching.

Because really, how does that even happen? It’s like Steve has universe hopped onto a place where something actually goes his way for once. 

Steve decides he doesn’t care how Bucky is in front of him as long as Bucky is still in front of him. 

“I- uh, yeah, I know that’s probably a dumb question?” Steve stumbles out, hands tightening back on the cart handle. 

He gets the same look again, this time accompanied by a ghost of a wan smile. 

“Yeah, I- I know who you are,” Bucky says quietly. “Or at least- I, I know who you are to me? I don’t remember everything. But I  
know you. You’re- um, you’re Steve. Stevie.” The name makes Steve’s heart ache. Bucky shifts, hands clenching tightly onto his plastic bag. His cheeks are now flushed, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to run. So Steve lets go of his cart and hesitantly steps around it towards him, hands turned down to make it obvious that he poses no threat. As if he could ever be a threat to Bucky, as if he would ever want to be one.

“Bucky?” he whispers. He takes another step forward, and Bucky doesn’t step  
back. Only watches him with wide eyes. “Is it- Is it okay if you would maybe- come back to my apartment with me?”

There’s a stretch of silence for a too-long moment and Steve feels a sudden terror that Bucky might run away now because Steve has overstepped. Bucky had been on the run for a while- both from HYDRA and SHIELD. And... Steve. Maybe he doesn’t want to stop running, maybe he hadn’t wanted to be found because he didn’t want to see Steve. 

It’s irrational, on the verge of ridiculous to think that it’s mainly Steve Bucky has been running from, but his mind is going wild with the thought anyway (Steve thinks back to the intrusive thoughts his therapist had talked to him about). He knows in the back of his mind that if Bucky hadn’t wanted Steve to even possibly find him, he wouldn’t be shopping somewhere right down the road from Steve’s apartment. Realistically Steve knows that Bucky has done his research. Bucky knows where he lives, knows Steve might come here (might even be here because of that), and Steve knows that he knows, but he still is about to apologize for asking too much of Bucky when the man in question blurts out an answer. 

“Yes!” This is by far the loudest Bucky has spoken in the last five minutes of their (miraculous) encounter. Bucky seems to realize this as his cheeks pink and he hunches in on himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Steve rushes to reassure him, mind still whirling over the sheer impossibly of the situation (of their lives), mouth stumbling to fit out the words he desperately wants to convey. “No, it’s okay! I-I really want you to come back with me. If you feel comfortable enough that is.” 

Bucky’s mouth twists into wry smile, eyes flicking to meet Steve’s before dropping down to Steve’s almost forgotten shopping cart. His voice is soft again as he fits out “What about your groceries?”

Steve looks down and back at his almost full cart, brow furrowing. He wasn’t very concerned with shopping anymore (how could he be?) but if he was going to bring Bucky back to his place, it shouldn’t be to empty cupboards. Or to a stranger delivering takeout. 

“I guess I need to check out if we want anything to eat- I haven’t been very preoccupied with learning to cook anything besides the boiled potatoes I used to make for us before,” Steve blurts. His eyes widen once he realizes what he’s said- Bucky might remember him, but Steve shouldn’t press, shouldn’t-

“Yeah, those were pretty shit, looking back, weren’t they?” Bucky’s tone is close to amused, even if his eyes are still tired and his shoulders are still hunched. 

But still-small miracles. Steve will take what he can get, be content with what Bucky is willing to give. That’s how it’s been his whole life, and Steve sees no reason he should dare change that now.

“We made do,” Steve says softly, allowing his eyes to soften for a moment as he gazes at the man he loves. 

But as always, the moment passes, and Steve knows that Bucky probably doesn’t want to be out in the open for too long. Hell, he doesn’t want to be out in the open this long. 

“We could use self checkout? With both of us, we could finish up pretty quick. I don’t care too much for dealing with the workers, anyways,” he sheepishly admits. 100 years old, he’s supposed to hate technology, but that’s the persona Tony and the rest of the world had created while he was on ice. Steve loved self checkout, he assumed all people with anxiety did. 

Bucky nods, and begins to put down the kiwis he had picked out before Steve came barging over. Steve hesitates to interject, but of course he does anyway.

“We can get those, Buck, if you want them. I don’t mind,” he says. “I’ve been meaning to get more fruit, in any case. Just put them in the cart?”

Bucky seems to be hesitating too, and the terror Steve feels about the possibility of him bolting heightens. “You sure?” 

Please, Steve thinks. Please let me buy them. Please let me do something for you, please stay, please come home with me, come home to me.

He ends up just saying “Yeah, Buck.” Bucky puts the kiwis in the cart by Steve’s pies and (to Steve’s relief) takes the lead toward self-checkout. And that’s that. 

Steve finally lets himself take a deep breath. He lets the hope expand in his chest, and as Bucky helps him bag his (their?) groceries, he feels more at peace than he has in decades. Bucky is here. And he might even stay.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a self indulgent (maybe ridiculous) fic idea that my friend suggested to me. i’m planning on writing more chapters, but i can’t promise how soon they’ll come out. please be kind! forgive any grammatical errors, as this is unedited. comments are well received and loved.


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